


Worth It

by Miss_M



Category: Ready or Not (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Banter, Daniel Le Domas Lives, Developing Relationship, F/M, Mental Institutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26849932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_M/pseuds/Miss_M
Summary: “Why did you want me to come here in person?”
Relationships: Daniel Le Domas/Grace Le Domas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	Worth It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrisonersDilemma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrisonersDilemma/gifts).



> I own nothing.

Keeping track of the passage of time was tricky inside a psych ward. There were no clocks, no calendars, no newspapers left lying around, and the TV in the rec room was only ever tuned to the more innocuous children’s and nature programs ( _Peppa Pig_ and old British men looking for rare beetles in tropical cliffs – good; carnivores chasing down gazelles and Wiley running off of cliffs – bad). 

Daniel liked to start his days with a recitation of his most recent life experiences, an improvised calendar of sorts: he woke up in the hospital with his neck killing him and restraints pinning him to the bed, and overheard the nurses saying he’d been out cold for a week; he got moved out of the ICU, restraints went with him; he got moved to the psych ward and given tranks, no more restraints; he worked through the sweats, the shakes, the hallucinations, the whole AWS shebang; the shrink he met with every day told him “You’re not mentally disturbed, you’re deeply traumatized,” and Daniel said “Duh”; he had his trank doze reduced despite that display of smart-assery.

By his estimate, two, maybe three months had elapsed since the wedding. The healing scar on his neck still itched like crazy, and he’d heard how lucky he’d been to survive more times than anyone newly sober should’ve had to put up with. 

“Daniel, your visitor is here,” one of the gentler nurses told him one day when fog covered the patch of wilted lawn visible through the rec-room window. Must have been October or November, Daniel reckoned. 

Daniel clicked his fingers. “Damn, I was hoping today would be the day I got to watch Bear Grylls before you remembered to change the channel.”

The nurse gave him a studied non-look and walked off to fetch his visitor. Daniel realized his palms were sweating, wiped them off on his sweatpants, too loose around the waist. The patients weren’t allowed shoelaces, belts, suspenders, neckties, or even anti-droop drawstrings. Facial hair was against hospital regulations, and the staff had forced a buzz-cut on him some days – or was it weeks? – earlier. 

He imagined he looked a fright. He supposed it didn’t matter either way. He had put in a request for Grace to visit him, and for whatever reason of her own, she’d obliged. 

Grace came toward him, between the plastic chairs and board-game tables in the empty rec room, her blonde hair in a tight bun (loose hair and ponytails could be dangerous, she must have received detailed instructions about hospital rules), her three-quarter sleeves showing off her tattoos, her jeans loose and her boots tight and shiny. Charity wouldn’t have been caught dead in such clothes. 

Charity likely wore prison orange right about now, and Grace looked like a ray of sunshine made human flesh, so Daniel supposed there was some merit to the unproven assumption that sooner or later everyone got their just deserts. 

“Hello, Daniel.” 

Grace stood right in front of him, her eyes unwavering on his face, her expression tight as a drum. She wore red crocheted fingerless gloves, a punk-rock detail to cover up her still-healing hand, no doubt.

They didn’t touch – it wasn’t allowed, and they weren’t family _in that way_. Daniel cleared his throat. “Hi. Thank you for coming.”

She shrugged – the foster kid’s practiced nonchalance. “That was one call I didn’t expect to get. I guess I was curious.”

“Ever seen _One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest_?”

She arched her eyebrows at him. “I mean I was curious to see how you’re getting on.”

Something to unpack, but also something that would keep. Daniel didn’t imagine they’d get a lot of time, and there was a whole emotional minefield to navigate before he could tell her the reason he’d wanted to see her. “Let’s sit down.”

He snagged them two lawn chairs by the window. Patients weren’t allowed to hang out in the rec room on their own, but even now, Daniel’s name got him perks he didn’t deserve but used anyway.

The sliver of a view was completely covered in fog now. Grace – her hair, her eyes, her clothes – was the only source of color between the uniform grey outside and the muted, neutral colors of the ward.

Daniel rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands together. They were no longer sweating, but he hadn’t quite figured out how to start this conversation, though he’d thought of little else since he’d made the decision which prompted his request for Grace to visit him. 

“Daniel? Why am I here?”

He looked up, from his hands to Grace’s face, and said: “There’s going to be trial. Isn’t there?”

She tensed up, like she was deciding whether to bolt or to slap him.

Daniel went on: “One of our family lawyers stops by occasionally, tells me they’re still deciding whether to try me at all or keep me here indefinitely as a danger to myself and possibly society. Since I was out for the count by the time the cops showed up, and they have plenty of evidence against everyone else, it’s unlikely they’ll bother with me for the whole ‘hunting and terrorizing you’ bit. That leaves what happened with Uncle Charles. Funny thing, no one will tell me what the statute of limitations is on a minor aiding and abetting a premeditated homicide.”

Grace was gripping the edge of her chair with both hands, her knuckles tightening more and more the longer he spoke. She leaned in to hiss at Daniel, although no one else was near them and the nurses were busy. 

“Of _course_ there’s going to be a trial. There may be several, there’s so much shit your family got into over the years, several jurisdictions are getting involved.” She broke off, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, focused on Daniel again, her expression icy. “You could get all this from your lawyer. Why am _I_ here?”

“Are any of the others talking?” He waited, watched her expression change. “I didn’t think so. We’re good at keeping secrets, the Le Domases are. So it’s only that Trip Safe person’s testimony and your Little Orphan Annie word against one of the richest families in the country.”

“Fuck you.”

Daniel gestured at the rec room. “Already fucked. Too bad Aunt Helene decided to charge the cops with her axe, it would’ve really been something if the prosecutor could have put her on the stand and got her raving about Mr. Le Bail and goats and her husband’s death. But Mom, Dad, Charity, Emilie and Fitch – they’re all pleading the fifth or accusing you of killing the help, aren’t they?” He cleared his throat again – goddamn, this was so much harder than he’d imagined. “Has Alex said anything?”

Grace stared at him, then stared out the window at the fog, looked around the rec room, shook her head. “Alex is refusing to speak to anyone about anything. My lawyer says all he does is sneer and spit at everyone that comes near him. They’ve got him in a place like this one, only he’s kept in restraints all the time.” She rubbed her face with her hand – her good hand, Alex noticed, the one that hadn’t been shot and impaled. “For some reason, I’m picturing you two sharing a padded cell with a bunk bed.”

Daniel startled her and himself by laughing. The male nurse who’d spoken to him earlier looked up from the nurses’ station, watched them a moment, then went back to his crossword puzzle. 

Now it was Daniel’s turn to lean in closer: the illusion of intimacy. “I’ll testify on your behalf. For all the good the word of a perma-drunk accomplice and co-conspirator will do. I’ll tell them everything.” He sighed. “I need to get one thing right.”

Grace watched him, and he held her gaze, just about. “Even about how I broke your mom’s skull and nearly killed her?” she asked.

“Self-defense. Besides, she deserved it.”

A smile dawned slowly on Grace’s face. “Harsh.”

Daniel shrugged. “That’s what parents get for playing favorites.”

Grace shook her head, looked out into the fog. She was still smiling absently. Daniel watched the grey, diffuse light bathing her face. 

“You know I might get the house, if you all get locked away for good?” she said after a beat. “The hunting trophies, the antiques, the blood-stained Italian marble floors, and all. Mine by right of marriage. Not sure if I waive that by testifying against my lawfully wedded husband. Be worth it, though.”

Daniel didn’t insult her intelligence by pointing out the house was peanuts – there were also the sports teams, the stock portfolios, the Swiss bank accounts, which Daniel had always suspected were full of Nazi gold. The lawyers would eat a lot of it, but plenty more would be left over.

“Well, as long as you have your health…” he said. 

She pulled a face. “Said the man who literally lives in a hospital.”

Daniel pressed his hand to his heart, mouthed _ouch_. Grace’s eyes flitted to the scar on his neck, top marks to her for not having looked at it sooner. 

“If I do get any of the money, I’ll help you,” Grace said. “There are nicer hospitals, lawyers that don’t also represent the family you plan to throw under the bus.” Her voice turned quiet and fierce. “I would have done what I can for you even if you hadn’t offered to testify. It’s important to me that you understand that.”

“Grace, it’s okay. Being hunted as a supposed Satanic sacrifice would bring out anyone’s asshole streak. I don’t expect anything from you.”

Grace’s red hands fluttered impatiently. “Stop, okay? Stop trying to one-up my attempt at being noble and generous. I owe you big time. You thought the devil was about to kill you and suck out your soul like a Slurpee, and you helped me anyway.”

Daniel scoffed. “Tried to.” 

Before she could start arguing about what had been more effective in ensuring her survival – Daniel’s intervention with the hydrochloric acid, or everything that Grace had done throughout that night – he said: “We all deserve to die. You know this state has the death penalty. And instead, whatever happens to the others, I get to live, down here among the goblin men, and I get to remember everything. Serves me right.”

“I remember everything too,” Grace said softly. Daniel wondered if she even knew whether she meant it as solace or accusation.

Movement by the nurses’ station gave Daniel an excuse to avoid looking at her. “I think they’re about to ask you to leave.”

Grace didn’t move. “You could have sent me a message through your lawyer. Why did you want me to come here in person?”

Daniel rubbed his hands together. Hands were fascinating. One could look at them all day. 

“Okay,” Grace said. She stood up from her chair, and Daniel, against his better judgment, looked up at her. Might be his last chance to see her. 

Grace watched him, in his chair, in his hospital sweats. She folded her hands in front of her and leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, right at the hairline. She wore strawberry-scented lip gloss. The pattern on her shirt filled Daniel’s field of vision, forcing him to close his eyes or he’d lose what little of himself was left completely.

Grace straightened up, took a step away from him. The nurse was moving toward them, rapidly yet silently on his rubber soles.

Daniel managed to smile at Grace. “You know they’ll probably strip-search me after this little stunt of yours. But it’ll be worth it.” 

Grace flipped him off. “I’ll see you next week, Daniel.” 

“I’ll be right here, on tenterhooks.”

She lifted her injured hand and flipped him off with both red-gloved hands. She was smiling. “Tell your lawyer if you want me to bring you anything.”

“Sure, a quart of scotch, a porn mag – I’m not particular about the flavor – and a big metal file.”

Grace snorted and turned away when the nurse touched her elbow.

Daniel was fairly sure they wouldn’t strip-search him, just lecture him sternly about how he didn’t usually break the rules and didn’t want to start now. Once Grace was gone, he touched the sticky residue of her lip gloss on his skin and brutally short hair, sucked his fingertip. She couldn’t have kissed him on the mouth, of course not, not there and not yet, and maybe not ever. They weren’t family _in that way_. Then again, Daniel’s whole life had been shaped by warped notions of eternity – selling one’s immortal soul, servitude to the Great Enemy, eternal damnation awaiting. In the psych ward, he’d learned that waiting a week for something could be its own kind of eternity, but _not yet_ was good enough for now, and Daniel wasn’t going anywhere.


End file.
